


The Flowers Only We Can See

by Kou_91



Category: Natsume Yuujinchou | Natsume's Book of Friends
Genre: M/M, it's matonatsu so you should know what you're getting yourself into
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-29
Updated: 2018-03-29
Packaged: 2019-04-14 13:04:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14136609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kou_91/pseuds/Kou_91
Summary: “I brought you here today to show you something I think you’ll like...”Natsume is taken to one of Matoba's villas to be shown a crimson kimono the exorcist claims is enchanted. The beauty of the golden flowers captivates the boy at first, but when he looks at it too closely, he sees something he never wants to again.





	The Flowers Only We Can See

Natsume swallows as he stares down at the untouched spread of expensive tea and elegant Japanese confections arranged on the low table before him. 

The Matoba Clan head would be such a gracious host if not for the fact he felt the need to blackmail or kidnap Natsume every time he wanted his company. And worse, he seems to be getting more efficient… it can’t be a coincidence the exorcist approached Natsume when Nyanko-sensei just so happened to be at yet another drinking party. 

Once sensei hears about this he might finally cut back.

Without even looking up at the man sitting across from him, Natsume can feel his predatory gaze pressing down on his body with a tangible weight. In a futile attempt to calm the resulting nerves, Natsume occupies his mind by running a quivering finger along the rim of his teacup. Although the fragrant liquid inside has long since cooled, neither he nor the Matoba Clan head have made any attempt at conversation since his arrival.

The only sound in the room comes from the old European grandfather clock in the corner, each tick serving as a vexing reminder of just how long Natsume has been there.

Refusing to give Matoba the satisfaction of watching him squirm any longer, Natsume glares up at his “host,” determined to spit out the first brave-sounding comment that comes to mind. But the moment his amber eyes meet the target crimson, the intensity of the gaze returned forces his own to retreat below his downcast eyelashes once again.

Any hope that his attempt at rebellion went unnoticed is lost as a deep chuckle echoes throughout the room. Natsume’s brow furrows and his cheeks puff in annoyance as he waits for the teasing laughter to calm.

With a self-satisfied sigh, the exorcist finally speaks.

“I brought you here today to show you something I think you’ll like.”

“I’m not interested.”

“Oh?”

Without pause, Matoba leans forward to lift the teapot from the center of the table. With natural (or possibly trained?) elegance, he draws the sleeve of his robes back as he raises the kettle above Natsume’s cup.

“Well then, I suppose I’ll just continue enjoying the pleasure of your company until such interest arises.”

Natsume feels his face twitch in irritation and he reflexively covers the top of his still-full teacup. 

“What did you want to show me?”

Matoba’s ever-present smile widens as he brings the kettle over his own cup instead, a cloud of steam rising as he carefully tips the spout.

“A kimono. An enchanted one, that is. I saw it for the first time when I was around your age. But I lost interest in it long ago and forgot about it... until I met you.”

Natsume blinks, his face contorting into an incredulous frown.

“Why would I remind you of something you saw before we ever met?”

Matoba takes a long sip of his tea, but Natsume knows he’s taking more pleasure in making him wait for his response than in the drink’s flavor.

“Because your eyes reminded me of how beautiful it was.”

Those eyes widen in shock before darting down to scan the table in a flustered panic, desperate to find anything to look at other than the exorcist.

What did he just say? What does that even mean?

Deciding his teacup is the ideal candidate to hide his reddening face, Natsume brings it to his lips with both hands. He takes a hard gulp, but his nose scrunches immediately upon the realization that the cold temperature exaggerates the bitter taste.

At the sound of Matoba stifling a giggle, Natsume reluctantly glances back at him over the rim of the cup, blinking in confusion. Once their eyes meet, what remained of the exorcist’s composure breaks and the room is filled with his teasing laughter yet again.

“I’m referring to your eyes’ power, Natsume-kun. When I say the kimono is enchanted, I mean its beauty is only visible to those with sight like ours. Normal people cannot see it. When I learned about the power of your eyes, I was reminded of that.” 

Natsume’s cheeks burn, at first with embarrassment from his misunderstanding, then with anger over the knowledge that Matoba worded it that way on purpose. As if to irritate him further, Matoba tips his head in feigned innocence, his eye glinting mischievously through ink-black strands as he purrs.

“What did you think I meant just now?”

Unable to respond, Natsume’s lips draw into a thin line and his nails carve crescents into his palms as he resists the urge to slap Matoba’s head back upright again.

Looking smugly satisfied with his work, Matoba folds his arms into his sleeves, straightening his posture as he leans back. Although his eyes are still fixed on Natsume’s, the next words he speaks are directed to someone else.

“Bring it in.”

With that, two of Matoba’s white-masked shiki appear in the room as if they were stepping through invisible curtains suspended behind their master. Between them they hold a wooden kimono stand, upon which hangs a garment so otherworldly in its beauty, the mere sight of it causes Natsume’s lips to part in awe.

The crimson robe draped over the hanger shimmers with such luster it’s as if the silk was dipped in lacquer. The length of the cloth is too generous for the height from which it’s suspended, causing the hem to spill onto the floor in a pool of blood red. Elegant bouquets of golden chrysanthemums and Chinese peonies dance along the ruby fabric, glowing like molten glass burning from a flame within. 

In a trance, Natsume rises to his feet and approaches the display with an irresistible but cautious curiosity. The boy is so captivated by the garment that although he can hear Matoba let out an amused chuckle, it sounds far away, and Natsume doesn’t give him so much as a wary glance as he passes by. Stopping a safe distance from the kimono, he can feel the exorcist rise behind him, but the man’s normally intimidating presence is somehow comforting in its familiarity compared to the ominous aura of the red robes and golden flowers before him.

Natsume’s gaze fixates on a lush peony that would rest just over the wearer’s heart. He reaches forward to touch the flower when the low rumble of Matoba’s voice rouses him from his stupor. 

“Do you like them? The flowers?”

Before his fingertips can brush the silk, Natsume pulls his hand back and clutches it to his chest. His cheeks warm with embarrassment again at the realization that he was about to touch something of Matoba’s as if it were his own.

“Y-yes! They’re beautiful. I’ve never seen anything like them…”

Natsume’s body tenses as Matoba steps forward to join his side. The inevitable fight-or-flight response causes his heart to race, but he resolves to keep still. Hesitantly, he glances up at the exorcist from the corner of his eye, but he’s surprised to find an uncharacteristically gentle smile returned to him.

“Which one is your favorite?”

“Hm? Oh...”

Natsume turns back to the kimono, thankful for an excuse to look away from Matoba’s strange expression. Stepping forward, he takes a slow walk around the garment, assessing each flower before turning back to his host with a nervous laugh.

“I can’t decide… there are too many! Do you have a favorite?”

Natsume’s body tenses again when the exorcist places a hand on his shoulder. The touch isn’t threatening or forceful, but Natsume remains cautious as Matoba’s other arm raises to be parallel with Natsume’s line of sight. “There…”, he whispers as he points out a large peony located on the garment’s lower back, its petals spread as if beckoning their attention.

“Natsume-kun, I’ve looked at this kimono far longer than you, and I promise you will not find a prettier flower than that one no matter how hard you try.”

Natsume’s ears perk at Matoba’s teasing tone. But it doesn’t sound like he means to condescend. It’s more like an invitation to play a game. Natsume takes the challenge, searching all sides of the kimono for a superior flower.

“That one is beautiful, Matoba-san, but have you noticed this one before?”

Natsume gestures for Matoba to follow, leading him around the garment. Taking care to stand on the exorcist’s left side, he points out a chrysanthemum. Peeking up through his lashes to check Matoba’s reaction, he pouts when he’s met with a smug smirk.

“If it’s chrysanthemums you like, this one over here is better.” 

Matoba lightly squeezes Natsume’s shoulder to guide him to another flower. It only takes a quick glance for Natsume to accept that one really is superior, so he immediately begins to search for another. With a small, excited gasp he tugs Matoba’s sleeve, pulling him to a bloom he’s sure will win. 

Taking turns going back and forth, each playfully tries to upstage the other’s findings. Laughter and chatter fills the room until they finally run out of flowers and decide to call a truce. Standing shoulder to shoulder in front of the enchanted kimono in silence, each releases a contented sigh, and Natsume doesn’t bother to resist the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“Matoba-san, thank you for showing me this...”

Natsume turns to look up at the exorcist, blinking in surprise when he sees that he’s already looking back at him. 

“The pleasure is all mine. When you’ve seen something as beautiful as this, you can't help but want to share it with someone else. And in all these years, this is the first time I’ve been able to.”

“Hm? You’ve never shown it to anyone else? Not even Natori-san?”

Matoba’s eye narrows at the mention of the other exorcist, but his smile doesn’t fade.

“I’ve shown it to him, but he can’t see it the way you and I do. As I’ve told you, the kimono can only be seen by those with powers like ours. But there’s more to it than that. It doesn’t look the same to all of us, you see. Its appearance changes according to the beholder’s own spiritual power.”

Natsume furrows his brow in confusion, shaking his head as if asking for further explanation. In response, Matoba’s voice drops lower, speaking slowly as if to emphasize the importance of what he says next. 

“The weakest of our kind, people who may not even know they have these powers, are only able to see a plain white garment. The typical exorcist sees the silk as something closer to orange. Those of us with particularly strong sight, like your favorite, Natori, are able to correctly see the deep crimson color, but even they are unable to see the flowers. Only the most gifted of us can see them."

Natsume’s head involuntarily turns back towards the kimono in surprise. 

Natori can’t see these flowers? The ones Natsume and Matoba just made a game out of for half an hour or more?

After taking a moment to process that fact, Natsume nods slowly in understanding. Although he’s used to being able to see things others can’t, he’s having difficulty accepting that even Natori can’t see something he can see so vividly.

“Is it really that rare for someone to be able to see them?”

Natsume’s view of the crimson robes is eclipsed by those of black as Matoba steps in front of him.

“Indeed it is. As of this moment, only two people ever have.”

Natsume’s breathing stops. As the meaning of Matoba’s words sink in, Natsume’s heart sinks with them. He doesn’t know why, but the atmosphere has changed and he suddenly wants to leave. Now. He takes a cautious step back away from Matoba, but the exorcist steps forward to close the distance, grasping Natsume’s shoulders to keep him still. His touch isn’t friendly or gentle like earlier, it’s forceful and controlling, and he leans so close Natsume can smell the fragrance of tea as he whispers.

“Do you understand, Natsume-kun? Until now I’ve been the only one who has ever seen the flowers. I even researched my clan’s scrolls going back generations, and although countless exorcists from powerful families have looked at the kimono, there is no record of any one of them ever seeing the flower pattern. Other exorcists even accused me of lying about it, so much so that I almost grew to resent it.”

The exorcist brings a hand up to brush a golden lock of hair away from Natsume’s downcast eyes, tucking it behind his ear. His hand is warm, and it lingers on Natsume’s cheek as he continues.

“But when I witnessed your power for the first time, I couldn't stop thinking about this kimono for some reason. Somehow I knew that if I could share these flowers with anyone it would be you. And I was right.”

“Matoba-san, thank you for showing them to me, but… It’s getting late and I should go…”

Natsume remains still, afraid to look up at the exorcist’s reaction to his request. To his surprise, he feels Matoba’s grip release his arms, and he takes the opportunity to step away. Feeling secure with some distance between them now, he looks back up towards Matoba, but his expression is unreadable. It’s gotten so late that the room is dim, and the glow from the kimono behind him casts the exorcist’s face in a dark shadow.

“...Yes, of course. I apologize for keeping you so long.”

As Matoba steps aside to let him pass, Natsume’s chest twinges with guilt. He can’t see Matoba’s face, but the disappointment is so clear in his voice that Natsume can imagine how it must look. Perhaps Natsume was wrong to feel fear? Matoba hasn’t harmed or threatened him, and he’s letting him go as soon as he asked. It seems he truly did bring Natsume here for nothing more than to show him something he’s wanted to share with someone for a long time, and Natsume won’t even allow him conversation.

“I’m sorry, it’s just that I have school tomorrow. Could I come back another time so we can talk about it more?”

“Yes, I’d like that…”

The sound of Matoba’s voice gives away his face again. A smile this time. And as Natsume steps around Matoba, he smiles in return. But as he goes to pass the kimono on his way to the door, he feels an irresistible urge to look at it again. And when he does, his eyes are pulled to the same peony on the chest of the garment that he tried to touch when he first saw it. But something is different.

“Matoba-san, was that hole there before?” 

Matoba steps forward, and they’re looking at the kimono side-by-side again.

“A hole? Where?”

“It’s small, but... I don’t know how we didn’t see it when we were looking at the flowers before.”

Natsume leans closer, pointing at a small rip in the fabric on the very center of the peony. But Matoba merely squints, shaking his head in confusion.

“Natsume-kun, I don’t know what you’re referring to, it looks fine to me.”

The blond looks back and forth between Matoba’s eye and the fabric’s flaw. He seems to be looking right through it.

"You really can't see it? Maybe if I just..." Natsume gently holds the collar of the kimono, pulling the fabric just enough to further expose the small tear. He runs his fingers down the silk, but the moment they touch the frayed edges... 

He blacks out.

\----------

When Natsume comes to, he’s outside and the sun is bright and warm. He feels grass beneath his feet, and it’s cool and dewy like an early summer morning. He’s walking alongside a small pond, but his body is moving on its own as if his consciousness is merely a spectator. He can tell he's been smiling by the soreness in his cheeks and the playful bounce in his step. He glances down, and he’s surprised to see he's wearing the very kimono he had just been admiring with Matoba. Realizing he’s gained control of his movements, he brushes his fingers across the flower over his heart, noticing the hole is gone. Just before he looks up to take in his surroundings, the sound of a familiar voice, deep and dark, resonates from behind him.

"You truly are the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. And your kimono only serves to emphasize that beauty..."

Startled by such bold words, Natsume’s cheeks flush as he whips around to face the speaker. It’s a man who appears to be Matoba Seiji, but he seems different in a way Natsume can't quite place. His overall appearance is identical, but his smile is kind and warm, and something about it makes Natsume feel serene. But his calm is replaced with surprise when, without a moment’s hesitation, the man wraps one arm around Natsume’s waist and pulls him close too quickly for Natsume to resist.

With his other hand, the man tips Natsume’s chin back to look into his eyes. From this distance Natsume can tell this man’s gaze is just as dark and unreadable as the Matoba he knows, but for some reason he can't understand, his touch and closeness brings him no fear at all. Instead, Natsume’s heart races in anticipation and confusion when he slowly comes to realize that rather than feeling unwelcome and foreign, the sensation of the man’s arm around his body feels like a once-familiar embrace Natsume has dearly missed. 

"When you wear these robes, the contrast of the deep crimson against your fair skin makes you look like you're made of porcelain... and while the golden flowers are beautiful, they're no match for your eyes..."

Natsume is so shocked by what he’s hearing, he finds himself too confused to respond. His breath catches in his chest when the familiar-looking man’s gaze lowers to Natsume’s lips, and his thumb moves to brush the sensitive pink skin. Natsume’s mind is racing too fast for him to process any thought other than the mundane observation that this Matoba’s fingers are slightly rough and calloused, like one would expect of an archer.

“Natsume, I…” 

Natsume gasps when the man tips his chin back further, pulling Natsume towards him so suddenly he can do nothing but shut his eyes and wait. His lips are close enough to sense, and for some reason Natsume’s heart starts racing in anticipation… only to drop in disappoint when the desired contact doesn’t come. Instead, he feels the man he believes is Matoba drop his forehead to nuzzle in the crook of Natsume’s neck.

"I apologize... I know an ayakashi doesn't want to hear things like that from an exorcist."

Ayakashi?

An irresistible urge compels Natsume to look at his reflection in the pond behind the man holding him. Deciding it’s the most natural action in this strange situation, Natsume wraps his arms nervously around the man’s neck to lift himself up, rising on his toes to see over his shoulder as he looks down into the water.

But the face that looks back at him is not the one he knows. It looks… like his own, but his hair is pale and silver, his eyes are unnaturally as bright as gold… but the starkest difference of all is the pair of bone-white horns protruding from the crown of his head.

—————

Natsume gasps, his eyes darting wildly to assess his surroundings. He must have lost consciousness again. Surrounded by darkness, he knows it’s no longer morning. He also knows he no longer has company, because the warm embrace of the man has been replaced by something cold and inhuman. 

When he tries to move, he realizes he can’t. Wrapped around his body now are not arms, but countless ropes, binding his wrists and ankles to what feels like a tree behind him. His arms are over his head, and he can feel the horns he saw before pressed against them. Looking down, he recognizes through the darkness that he’s still wearing the enchanted kimono, and that he’s standing on what appears to be a magic circle.

The low rumble of the voice of the man from before causes Natsume to look up in the direction of the sound.

“I’m sorry things have to end this way. If you had become my shiki, I could have protected you from this.”

The man who had just held him in a loving embrace is now standing some distance ahead. He’s wearing a bow strapped to his back, a quiver on his hip, and an expression as cold as the night air nipping at Natsume’s skin. And he isn’t alone. He’s surrounded by dozens of other exorcists, all staring and gesturing at Natsume as they whisper loudly amongst themselves.

Immediately understanding the danger, fear and panic crushes Natsume’s chest as hot tears sting his eyes, and he calls out in desperation.

“Matoba-san! What is happening?! Please, I’m so confused, I…”

The black haired man’s expression remains unchanged as if he didn’t hear a word Natsume said. Taking his bow in his hand, he loads it with an arrow armed with a paper charm. He raises the weapon, taking aim directly at Natsume’s chest as he draws the string back until it rests against the seal covering his eye. As the exorcist holds the arrow steady by his cheek, Natsume watches in confusion as Matoba seems to quickly glance at the clan members on either side of him before he bites the charm on his arrow, tearing the paper spell apart with his teeth.

"Goodbye, Natsume..."

Natsume’s heart drops into his stomach, tears streaming down his cheeks as he shrieks.

“MATOBA-SAN, NO!”

The exorcist releases the arrow, and the final sound Natsume hears is the piercing tear of the silk flower over his heart.

—————

Natsume gasps for air as his eyes shoot open. He’s lying on his back, and the Matoba Seiji he knows is staring down at him with an expression uncharacteristically full of worry. Natsume vaguely processes the ceiling behind the exorcist, realizing he must be lying down in Matoba’s tea room, his head in the other man’s lap. His skin is drenched in cold sweat, but he suspects the dampness on his cheeks isn’t from that, but from tears.

“Natsume-kun, are you alright? What happened?”

The blond flinches when Matoba reaches down to brush the wet bangs sticking to his forehead. He presses weakly at Matoba’s body to ask to be released, but as he turns away and sees the enchanted kimono crumpled on the floor at his side, he immediately remembers that right now Matoba is not the greatest threat to him in this room.

Scrambling away from it, he presses close to Matoba, clinging to his robes as if for protection. Matoba tries to hold him, but Natsume pushes the man’s arms away to prevent them from blocking his sight of the kimono. He can’t take his eyes off it. Not now. Refusing himself the chance to catch his breath before he speaks, his voice is raised and his words are quick and panicked.

“Matoba-san, what is that thing?! WHAT IS IT?!”

“The kimono? I don’t kn-”

“YOU’RE LYING! You know what it is! You showed it to me on purpose! You WANTED me to see that!”

“The flower pattern? Yes, but I never expected you’d faint fro-”

“SHUT UP! This isn’t about the flowers and you know it! I don’t know what you did to that thing or why or how you did it, but I know you did it on purpose!”

Natsume pulls away from Matoba and rises to his feet, but the other man follows behind, grabbing his wrist as he always does with those rough, archery-calloused fingers Natsume hates.

“Please calm down, I don’t know what y-”

The sound of a slap echoes throughout the room, and after releasing Natsume’s wrist, Matoba touches his reddened cheek in shock.

“Don’t ever show me those flowers again. I don’t care if you have no one else in the world to look at them with.”

Natsume looks down at the kimono as he turns to leave. The black hole through the center of the peony above the heart now makes the blossom seem like an eye watching his every movement. He swallows hard as he begins to walk away, and although he expects Matoba to try to stop him again, no such attempt comes. Natsume slams the door shut as he exits, leaving Matoba alone in silence save for the sound of the ticking grandfather clock in the corner.

The exorcist stares at the door for a long moment before he drops back down to sit in front of the table, sighing as he takes a sip of cold tea.

Turning to look at the abandoned kimono behind him, he reaches back to retrieve it. Cautiously pulling it into his lap, he searches the folds until he finds the allegedly damaged flower. Manipulating the silk in his hand so the material catches the light of the moon shining through the window, he leans in close to the flower and squints.

But no matter how long he looks at it, the fabric remains pristine.


End file.
